It happened too fast.
“Slut. Coquette. Doxy. Whore!” Watching her getting fucked by Eirik and experiencing her used cunt had been too much for Roderick to hold back for long. His cock throbbed and he thrusted into had deeply as he could to deposit his seed into her already fertilized womb. The throbbing and hot flood felt wonderful, but it wasn’t enough to make Pauline cum like she wanted. The pleasure was all Roderick’s.
She was practically crying when Roderick withdrew. She had been so close.
“You’ve made the poor thing cry,” Eirik commented.
His cruel streak had passed and Roderick actually felt bad for Pauline. “I need to piss and wash your cum off my dick,” he said, covering for his unexpected emotions. Upon spying his friend’s erection, he said as he headed to the interior privy, “Why don’t you fuck her one more time. She’s earned it.”
End Part One
Part Two
Chapter Five
Roderick was just finishing filling the chamber pot when he heard screaming from his bedroom. At first he was amused, the sound was obviously Pauline reaching her peak and letting free the orgasm that had been building in her body. But then the tone and timbre of the scream changed. Something was wrong.
He rushed from the privy, spilling the contents of the pot as he ran back to his bedroom where he had left his best friend fucking his pregnant mistress.
The scene of horror he found waiting for him brought Roderick up short. He had seen more than enough death, blood, and gore in his short stint in the army. It had never been a delight to him, unlike some of the more vicious members of his military detachment, and what he found in his bed now shattered him to his soul.
Pauline was on her back, her legs spread and pregnant belly curved up into the air. Eirik was between her legs, his big cock still buried in her cunt, fucking her for the second time that evening, and up to a few moments before, had been enjoying the inviting cunt of his best friend’s mistress. It was a doubly good cunt because Pauline obviously enjoyed a good round of sex and it was with Roderick’s approval and participation.
The horror originated at the thin steel blade that had erupted from Eirik’s chest. It stuck out a good foot, covered in a film of red blood that now sprayed out of the wound and down onto Pauline’s naked body. Blood was running out of Eirik’s mouth and his friend was desperately trying to say something, but his power of speech had failed him.
The assassin looked up from behind Eirik when he heard Roderick enter the room. His face was masked, but the look of panic was obvious in the man’s eyes. He was struggling to pull the blade free from Eirik’s body, either to escape with the weapon or perhaps to kill Pauline as well. Roderick didn’t give the assassin the opportunity to do either.
Reaction on pure instinct he snatched up the short sword that Eirik had earlier deposited in the padded armchair. It flashed twice as Roderick used the sharp blade. The first blow was partially knocked aside by the assassin’s arm as he sought to protect himself. The sword cut deeply into the man’s forearm. He cried out in pain and dropped his guard. That gave Roderick the opening he needed and plunged the weapon into the assassin’s throat. A second later the man’s dead body fell to the floor.
Roderick stared at the body a second and then looked at Pauline who was whimpering in fear. She seemed fine. Only then did he scream for the guards.
He didn’t blame the guards for not reacting when the screams started. They were used to hearing the screams of passion from his bedroom. He did blame the fools for not being able to distinguish between the cries of panic and the sounds of passion. He blamed them even more for allowing a killer into his bedroom.
When the guards rushed in, confusion and panic truly set in. Roderick whirled around to see his friend slump to the side, uncoupling from Pauline. The sword was still in place but amazingly his friend still lived. Roderick went to Eirik to easy his friend’s pain.
“What happened?” was all he could think to ask.
“Sorry…” was the only word that Eirik could force out before his eyes went dark.
Chapter Six
Margareta hated traveling in general, even just to go into the city to enjoy the sites and shopping. However, travelling in the royal coach wasn’t so bad. The seats were padded. The driver was excellent at his job and kept the jolting on the cobblestones to a minimum. The windows were of thick glass with curtains to keep the warmth inside, though on this fine spring day she had the curtains flung wide open and had even cracked open one of the windows for the fresh air.
Still, it was a gilded cage. Margareta looked sourly across the coach at the woman assigned to protect her. It was a joke. The woman was no older than her and was of a dubious background. Her skin was honey-kissed and she sported angular brown eyes that unsettled Margareta. Her black hair reminded the princess too much of Roderick’s mistress, even if she kept it tightly bound in a bun at the nape of her neck, unless the hussy who too often shared Roderick’s bed.
“May I be of assistance, ma’am?” the woman said.
The question roused Margareta from her thoughts. “Why would you ask that?”
“You’ve been staring at me for five minutes, princess. I thought that perhaps you were in need of something.”
Margareta sniffed. “Hardly. What I am in need of is not you?”
“Ma’am?”
Lifting her chin, Margareta said with more than just a note of superiority, “If I’m supposed to have a bodyguard to protect me, why do I have…you?”
The woman stiffened. “I served in His Majesty’s army for six years. I’m a commissioned lieutenant and I have been trained to protect anyone from harm. Ma’am.”
Margareta had her doubts, but the woman seemed to hold herself competently, and there was definite look of strength to her body. She was stuffed into a walking dress that was in fashion, but it didn’t fit her quite correctly, as if she were too muscular for the cut of the garment.
Before Margareta could say anything more, the carriage came to a halt. “We’re here, ma’am,” the bodyguard said.
They were outside the most exclusive and expensive dressmaker’s shop in the city. Margareta didn’t have any particular need or desire for a new dress, but shopping was better than sitting in the drawing room of the palace. The bodyguard exited the carriage first and the footman assisted Margareta out of the carriage. It was only a few steps between the carriage and the shop door. It all happened so quickly.
Her bodyguard moved without Margareta realizing it. The glint of the gun’s muzzle caught the bright sunlight. The glint flared into a beautiful explosion followed by a loud bang and then a scream. Margareta found herself on the ground, pushed there by the bodyguard who now lay atop her, struggling. Margareta fought back, but she didn’t know what she was doing. While she struggled against the bodyguard who had obviously betrayed her, there were two more sharp bangs and Margareta lay still, paralyzed by fright.
“Back into the carriage,” the bodyguard screamed. Margareta wasn’t sure who the bodyguard was screaming at, but she found herself hauled to her feet by the muscular woman and all but thrown into the carriage.
“Leave!” she shouted to the driver still seated on front of the carriage. They didn’t move.
Margareta looked out the window and saw two men on the cobblestones bleeding. One was a footman from the carriage, the other was a commoner.
The bodyguard thumped heavily with a club on the ceiling of the carriage. “Move! Now!”
“But Norman—”
“Leave him!”
Only then did the carriage begin to move. Margareta looked at the club and realized it wasn’t a crude wooden weapon; it was a small double-barreled pistol. Where had it come from?
“You’re kidnapping me?” asked Margareta, amazed at how fast all of it had happened.
The bodyguard’s brow furrowed and then she laughed to relieve the tension. “No, ma’am. I’m not kidnapping you. I’m returning you to the palace. Someone jus
t tried to kill you. I’m saving your life.”
“But if they were trying to kill me…why is my footman dead?”
“The assassin’s shot missed,” the bodyguard said calmly as she opened the gun, dropped out two shells, and replaced them with two fresh ones from the purse she carried. “I didn’t.”
“I see.” Margareta marveled at how calmly her bodyguard was handling the situation. It wasn’t a calmness she felt. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am. It’s my service to you.”
“Thank you,” Margareta repeated and only then did she faint.
The confusion at the palace was nothing but a minor inconvenience to the bodyguard who pushed aside all other concerns and focused on the safety of the princess. The palace was in chaos although for the life of her Margareta couldn’t understand why. She had recovered from her faint, but wasn’t yet herself. She was ushered into her private chambers where the bodyguard ordered her maid to remove her dress.
“Why?” asked Margareta as the maid began undressing her.
“I need to make sure you weren’t hurt in the attack. I can’t see anything with all these stays and frills and thick material,” she said in her clipped tone.
“Oh. That makes sense.” She allowed her outer jacket and dress to be removed and in no time at all she was down to her underclothes.
“Besides, I pushed you onto the dirty ground. I’m afraid your dress might be ruined. At the very least it will need to be washed.”
Margareta nodded and then stood stock still as the bodyguard ran her hands all over her body. “What are you doing?” she managed to ask.
“Checking for wounds. We should remove these things,” she said of the white cotton underclothes. The maid hastened to obey.
Margareta wanted to resist, but when she tried, she noticed her hands were shaking and her fingers were ice cold. The bodyguard noticed as well.
“Draw a bath for the princess. She’s had a bit of a fright.”
And then Margareta found herself naked and under the inspection of bodyguard’s sharp eyes. “No wounds. That is good.” She was handed a silk robe that she wrapped around her body for some degree of modesty. “You’re still shaking,” the other woman said, noticing Margareta’s trembling limbs.
“No I’m not,” she said but it was an obvious lie even to Margareta.
“The excitement of the moment has worn off. A warm bath is needed.” She drew Margareta into the bathing room where steam rose from the hot bath. The bodyguard took off her robe and eased Margareta into the water. Only then did everything come together and Margareta started crying, not wailing cries of pain or passion, but tears of terror and loss.
It would have been fine if the bodyguard had left her alone, but instead she quickly stripped herself out of her clothing and joined Margareta in the large tub.
Margareta’s skin was as cold as the bodyguard’s was warm. The young princess allowed herself to be held by the other woman’s surprisingly strong arms and when she curled up next to her, was startled to realize that the bodyguard was much more muscular than any woman had a right to be.
“I’m so cold,” Margareta muttered.
“Shh, let the water warm you.” By this time it wasn’t the water that was making Margareta’s blood flow. It was the other woman.
To cover for her arousal, Margareta said, “I should thank you for saving my life.” Her teeth chattered together without pause.
The bodyguard chuckled a little. “You already have, ma’am. Twice.”
“I did?”
“Yes. Though it’s not unusual for people to forget minor details in times of stress.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Aphra, ma’am. Aphra McGuire.”
It was an unusual name and Margareta wanted to ask how the muscular young woman came by it, and how she came to serve in the king’s army, and how from there she had been assigned bodyguard duty to the king’s second grandson’s wife, but instead she found herself pressing her lips against Aphra’s, kissing her like a lover.
The bodyguard didn’t exactly kiss back, but neither did she push the princess away.
“I’m sorry,” said Margareta regaining her composure. “That was inappropriate. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive, ma’am. You’ve had a fright and people often react in strange ways—”
Margareta kissed her again, cutting off her words. Without thinking through what she was doing, Aphra found herself kissing back. It was the wrong thing to do but Aphra was going through a similar reaction to the earlier excitement in the day.
The water was warm and they were already naked. It was an easy thing to do. Aphra didn’t know the correct protocol in bedding a princess, but since Margareta was taking the lead, she figured whatever was happening was fine.
Aphra wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to fuck as beautiful a woman as Margareta. It had been too long since she had the chance to fuck a woman.
Aphra kissed Margareta’s lips, cheeks, neck, and then went down to her breasts, catching a nipple between her lips and sucking hard enough to make the other, smaller woman to tremble. When her hand went between Margareta’s legs, the blonde woman briefly resisted, but then opened up her thighs, welcoming the invasion.
Though the water was warm, it tended to slow them down. She could feel Margareta’s heat and slickness, but the water was actually annoying now.
“The bed?” Aphra suggested.
Margareta nodded in agreement. The bath was nice, but Aphra’s body next to hers was even better. They both got to their feet, Aphra getting out of the tub first. When Margareta held out her hand for Aphra to assist her out of the tub, the bodyguard simply picked up Margareta and lifted her out of the water. The princess marveled at her partner’s strength and ability as she was carried bodily to the bed in the next room. Their bodies were still wet from the tub, but once they were on the sheet, that was forgotten.
Aphra placed Margareta carefully on the middle of the bed and quickly kissed her way down the woman’s warm skin. Her breasts were sweet, her belly was flat, and when she got to Margareta’s mound, she inhaled the musky scent that rose from her sex. There was a moment of hesitation and resistance as Aphra pushed Margareta’s legs open.
The princess had a cunt that was prettier than any other she had ever seen. The little triangle of dark blonde hair just barely covered her mound. When Aphra licked the length of Margareta’s sex, her lips opened up and the swell of her clit was visible. When Aphra sucked on the little organ, Margareta wiggled to the point where Aphra had to hold her down. Her strong arm pinning the slight blonde to the bed was enough hint for Margareta to stop moving.
Strangely, the strong bodyguard was disappointed when the princess didn’t move at all. “What’s the matter?” she asked Margareta.
“I thought you didn’t want me to move.”
Aphra sometimes forgot how strong she was in comparison to other women. “No, I like it when you move around. Do it more.” She put her mouth back on Margareta’s clit, making her move unconsciously. The struggle between the two became almost a mating dance. Margareta would have preferred to be tied up, but in the heat of the moment this was the best she could expect.
To Margareta’s surprise, Aphra proved to be a surprisingly good lover, knowing her way around a cunt better than her husband. While she was certain that the climax she had was partly because of the events of the day, it was still exactly what she needed.
Her entire body was trembling as she came. She tasted herself on Aphra’s lips when the bodyguard kissed her. The bodyguard took Margareta’s hand and pressed it between her legs. It was strange touching another woman’s cunt, but not at all unpleasant. She penetrated Aphra’s sex with a single finger. It was warm and inviting and Margareta found herself manipulating the woman’s sex, but she realized she must have been doing a terrible job of it.
“You’ve never been with a woman before, have you, ma’am?” A
phra asked.
Margareta stopped moving her finger. She didn’t know what to admit to Aphra and what part of the truth to say. “I don’t spend much time in bed with women. Am I hurting you?”
Aphra smiled down at her and was bold enough to kiss the princess again. “No. The opposite. You need to rub me harder. I like it…I like it rough.”
Margareta didn’t know what to make of the request. Her husband liked to abuse her in bed and she enjoyed it, but this was the first time she had been asked to be more aggressive in the bedroom.
She did so, doing what she thought the other woman wanted, roughly fingering her and slamming her hand against Aphra’s sex. The bodyguard seemed to enjoy it to the point where Aphra stopped kissing her neck and eventually sank her teeth into Margareta’s shoulder, stifling the noises she was making.
It was amazing making a woman cum. Always before she had felt like a vessel, an object to be used by her husband, to be made to cum and to be the focus of pleasure from a man. This time she was actively participating in sex with someone else. It was…enlightening.
“That hurt,” Margareta said when Aphra was done cumming and had collapsed on the bed next to her. She indicated the two semicircles of bruises Aphra had left behind.
“I’m sorry,” Aphra said, suitably chastened. “I…I sometimes forget what I’m doing during sex.”
Before Margareta could reply there was a pounding on the bedroom door. “Princess? Your presence is requested by your husband.”
“Shit,” she cursed under her breath. “You need to help me dress,” she told Aphra with a sigh. “Apparently my husband needs me.”
Chapter Seven
Prince Martin looked down at the whore he had purchased for the evening. Because his father didn’t approve of Martin bringing whores into the palace, he was forced to visit the red light district. That was fine with Martin. He had more choices that way and if he was displeased with his initial selection, it was easy to change to someone new. Or to add another body to the bed. Or to ask the madam for toys or restraints. The possibilities were nearly endless.
The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader Volume 6 Page 23
